


Ignite

by bikuai



Series: Condensation [2]
Category: Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: And Lots of It, Angst, Gen, Pre-Canon, Symbolism, blink and you’ll miss the ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikuai/pseuds/bikuai
Summary: Tai Lastimosa watches his future as a pilot go up in flames. The severed link hurts more than his burns ever will.
Relationships: Tai Lastimosa/Eli Anderson
Series: Condensation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031487
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	Ignite

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of creative liberties taken here, as always. Pre-canon is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? Anyway, This is before Lastimosa got BT, so he has a Ronin named SE-9332.
> 
> Also, this fic is in the same headcanon-verse as my other Titanfall fic. I might make a series out of this lol

The incessant droning of the low battery alert is drowned out by the roaring inferno that surrounds his Titan. It burns a thick crescent around them, tall enough to seal them off from the other titans on the field. The heart of the battle echoes beyond the curtain of flame, punctuated with the cries of friend and foe alike. He tries to tune out the radio chatter as the enemy Scorch wades toward him.

In the heat of battle, Captain Tai Lastimosa and Sierra-Echo-9332 are a formidable force. Heart, mind, and body are linked; each step of the pilot is transcribed perfectly by the movement of the titan. But with each blow they take, Sierra’s batteries retaliate with a slew of error codes and warnings. They won’t hold for much longer. Maneuvers that they could perform in their sleep have become stiff and stilted imitations. He tries to dash, but her joints lock up, hydraulics unresponsive. It’s only for half a second, but the fumble doesn’t go unnoticed. The Scorch lunges for them.

Lastimosa sidesteps at the last second, then releases Sierra’s last shotgun shells into the enemy titan. It collapses to its knees but rolls just in time to reciprocate with grenade fire. There’s no time to react. Flashes of his life pepper his mind as the Scorch’s launcher lights up. Time slows. The fear he should be feeling is overridden by the desperation inundating his system. He can’t even describe the feeling as Sierra seizes the reins of their link and dashes out of the grenade’s path.

Her emotions (if they can be called that) overflow the link. Error messages stab at him like needles, neglected subprocesses grasp for his attention, calculations prod him for input. And there  _ is _ fear, despite Sierra’s efforts to conceal it. A deep and primal fear of losing a loved one. It sears him more than the smoldering patches that linger on her chassis. He can’t breathe, can’t focus with his mind submerged in Sierra’s consciousness.

So when she relinquishes control a second later, he shudders. His own emotions are nothing in comparison to the tempest of conflict in her data core. Though maybe that’s because he’s used to his own and never thought he’d experience her’s. Even as she retreats further from the link, an apology drips through, and a justification.

_ “Protocol three: protect the pilot.” _

Lastimosa retakes charge and scans the burnt and desolate landscape. A crimson haze fills the air, obscuring any possible escape. The afterimage of Sierra’s invasion lingers at the back of his mind. It feels like when they first linked, an eternity ago. 

“Activate Sword Core.” He commands.

“Pilot—”

“Just trust me, yeah?” With that, he brandishes her blade. She doesn’t protest, but the critical damage warning still flashes on his HUD. He dismisses it.

If his opponent is intimidated at all, they don’t show it. The Scorch lumbers to its feet, planting itself. Flame Core activates.

A perfectly timed Phase Dash would have sent them through the wave of fire unscathed. He attempts it, but there’s not enough power to maintain the phase. They flicker between realities as they sprint toward the other titan.

Flames lick up the sides of SE-9332 as he raises the sword above the Scorch. He can feel the heat through the metal plating, but he doesn’t let it distract him as he plunges the blade into the other titan. He uses every last ounce of power in the attack, bringing them both to their knees. But it’s not enough. The Scorch pushes against him and struggles to raise its launcher. Lastimosa reaches through the neural link, grasping for control of Sierra’s ruined chassis. He’s  _ so _ close; if he can just—

“Destruction imminent. Eject! Eject!”

The hatch flies open. The captain’s protests are drowned out by sounds of the raging battlefield, no longer obscured by the solitude of the cockpit. She takes one hand off the sword to reach in and grab him. Her emotions are flowing freely through the link again—pain, desperation, regret—as she flings him over the wall of fire that surrounds them. He lands behind the singed skeleton of an armored vehicle just in time to watch Sierra-Echo-9332 burst into a brilliant array of flames. Her batteries spark green like firecrackers before erupting into a cyan inferno. A deep and primal fear fills the captain’s chest as the link flickers.

“Sierra, Phase Shift! You can still get out of there!”

He doesn’t so much hear the apology as he feels it. It washes over him, along with bittersweet relief and resignation. 

“It was an honor being your titan. Thank you, Tai.”

The last of her munitions burst into flames, enveloping her and the pinned Scorch. Thick black smoke billows from the scene, forming a column into the vermillion sky. The link goes dark.

Now, for the first time since he became a pilot, he’s alone. Panic rises up his throat. He huddles down behind his measly piece of cover and tries his comms. No response. He tries again on the emergency frequency. Nothing. The scorched skin on his face and neck protests as he looks everywhere but at Sierra’s burning corpse. The battle continues to rage in clusters across the field. Fire catches dry patches of grass. A volley of rockets lights up the western flank. Lastimosa can barely breathe. He tries his comms again.

Counting to ten, he waits for a response. He gets to five before the heavy steps of an approaching titan alert him. He peaks out from his cover to get a better look. Its bulky form stands still as a sentry. With its singular optic, it watches the great plume of smoke rise from the wreckage. Lastimosa takes a slow step back.

Through the haze, the titan’s eye snaps to his position. He doesn’t think. In a blink, his legs are moving under him, dodging and weaving in anticipation of the titan’s onslaught. 

But the rounds never come. Lastimosa looks back quick enough to see the titan following him almost casually. It’s an Ogre class, and he doesn’t recognize it until he sees the black and yellow checkerboards that adorn its legs. He almost cries in relief.

“Anderson, you son of a bitch,” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. His helmet is still spitting out nothing but static, so if the other pilot heard him, he didn’t know. 

Now that his life isn’t in immediate danger, the adrenaline begins to ebb out of his system. Lastimosa can feel the toll his body has taken as reality comes back into focus. The whole left side of his gear is charred, his ribs are bruised from his lackluster landing, and his hands are still shaking terribly from the shock of losing his link. The thought of Sierra hurts, but he can’t think of anything else. Like a river run dry, the link left an untraversable canyon in its place. His breath catches in his throat.

Anderson kicks open his hatch and hops out just in time to catch Tai as he sinks to his knees. Against his better judgement, he lifts his visor. Reluctantly, Tai does the same. He pretends not to notice the shock and anger that filters over Eli’s face.

“Those IMC bastards are going to pay. You hear me? We’re gonna make them pay for this,” Eli says. His hand comes up to brush away the tears on the relatively unharmed side of Tai’s face. 

“Yeah, yeah, we will.” Tai nods, not trusting his voice enough to say more. The soot in the air is suffocating, and he’s pretty sure he has a cracked rib. He coughs.

The unbridled rage in Eli’s eyes doesn’t dissipate, even as he calls for medevac. Dizzy from the pain, Tai lies back on the hard-packed earth. He flips his visor back down and tries to take deep breaths. The world drifts away, and all he can think of is Sierra using her last moments of life to save him. He’ll never forget the apologetic inflections of her voice as the fire spread up her skin. It echoes in his mind through the severed link.

_ “Thank you, Tai.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, the plot thickens. Next fic won’t be this sad, I promise!


End file.
